


To wander the sun and other stars

by shadowlands



Series: It was dark when I found you [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pro Basketball Player Kagami Taiga, Pro Basketball Player Kuroko Tetsuya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowlands/pseuds/shadowlands
Summary: They're older, they've traded one uniform for another and their love is as familiar as the calluses on his palms. But no matter how much things may change, Kagami is still the gravity that holds him and Kuroko will give anything for him to fly.
Relationships: Kagami Taiga/Kuroko Tetsuya
Series: It was dark when I found you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749433
Comments: 28
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be another thing entirely. But doing things in fic mode helps get the gears moving. 
> 
> TW: A lot of non-con, but not for kink. It's the plot.
> 
> Kudos and comments welcome.
> 
> Listen to The Waiting Game by Kalandra.

Kuroko has been skipping meals. It's irresponsible but his stomach hasn't been the friendliest lately. The too few hours of rest he manages the night before makes it worse. He's been racking up on that, sleep debt. Alvark Tokyo had placed fourth in nationals not even two weeks ago. He's still buzzed. He'd taken to biting his nails again, an ugly childhood habit he's suddenly relapsed back into. They're uneven and they hurt to scratch with.

Kagami enters the living room, dressed in a fresh tee and a pair of shorts. He looks chipper if a little pink from his morning run and subsequent shower when he sets down the large plates he'd been carrying. Both are piled high with waffles. If anything the height intimidates him. He's gotten better with food, he can't afford not to given the diet required of an athlete. Still Kuroko knows he won't finish the stack. "I can't eat all of this."

"Eat some at least," Kagami says, grinning. He circles the coffee table and plops down on the couch to sit beside Kuroko, placing a hand on his knee. "And stop worrying."

The touch is calming and Kuroko wishes he would just stop fidgeting and be still already. But all he's able to do is breathe a sigh and force a smile on his face. "I will."

Kagami's hand travels from his leg to his cheek, cupping it and bringing their faces together. The kiss is luxuriant, undemanding. Giving. He whispers, "It's gonna be alright. You're an amazing player."

Kuroko wants to scoff at him. The past ten days Kagami has been saying the same thing, as if repeating it would make Kuroko believe him. But the emotion in his eyes don't lie, conveying every last drop of faith Kagami had in him. Since their first meeting Kagami has been many things though never a liar. Yet while Kuroko has discovered Kagami's bluster to be thrilling, he later learns his honesty is stupefying. It is looks like this that stops him in his tracks, has him swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"Okay," he says. "Thanks for breakfast."

Kagami just kisses him again.

* * *

Azusa Shige is a respected man. He's well liked, the manager of a league qualifying, sometimes reigning team in the Japanese professional circuit and just because it's off season it doesn't mean the man isn't running on a schedule. He had called in for Kuroko ten minutes ago despite how his attention hasn't strayed from the screen of his desktop. His hands are sweating and Kuroko wants him to get on with it.

At last Azusa fixes him a stare and Kuroko isn't better, in fact he's worse because his breath starts to rattle in his chest. "I'm going to be frank with you, Kuroko."

He braces himself, nodding mutely.

"You've got one of the larger contracts on the team yet you haven't had a very good season." He is fully aware of this. His assists haven't been great because they've had new additions to the roster and it takes some time before the plays stick. It's always been like that, but new powerhouses without an insight for the field don't make the fastest learners and it shows. Azusa leans forward and whether he means to or not the position makes an already serious expression more severe. "We're approaching championships and a lot of contracts are about to end. There isn't enough cap to keep everyone on. We've deliberated." He sounds level, professional would be the accurate descriptor and Kuroko thinks he must have done this many times before, for it to be easy. He can't help his stomach from turning. "I've been recommended by many to go with your buy out."

This. This is exactly what he fears all along, the reason his arms are littered with scratches and why he's been downing coffee like it's iced lemonade. Basketball is a sport but it's also a business and he knows even perfect playoffs won't compensate for all the ways his stats had plummeted. He also knows Kagami is here and he doesn't want to be without him.

"Kuroko," Azusa says, pulling him back into focus. "Tell me. Should I do that?"

He'd given blood, sweat and tears to be there, to be drafted in the first place. From the beginning it'd been an uphill battle, his chances slim to none and he had made it, honed his skill set into that of a commendable point guard's. Akashi trained him, for crying out loud. Trained him with the goal of becoming the furthest thing from replaceable. The last thing he wants is his chance being taken away. He knows he can prove to Azusa he's worth keeping, if it meant he gets to stay in the league. Stay with Kagami.

Kuroko summons a carefully crafted bravado and says, "No."

Technically Azusa doesn't give away much of a tell, but the fierceness of his answer still has him blinking. He smiles, if only a bit. It's a placating smile. "No? Why do you believe that?" And he sounds genuinely curious, it isn't a taunt or anything.

It's a struggle to keep meeting his eyes. Kuroko does it anyway. "I'm useful. You've seen me turn the tide in a pinch. It's why you brought me in. I can be the player you wrote that contract for."

It comes out confident, reassuring. Azusa isn't assured. The smile that stretches his lips is just as gentle, but only half as kind. Kuroko finds it strangely unpleasant. "Can you prove it?"

It's a question that should warrant an automatic reply but he staggers. "I..." He can, even if he can't, he'll spend every waking moment trying. "Yes. Yes, I can."

"What are you willing to do?"

This time he's ready. "Anything. I'll do anything. I want to stay on the team, sir."

Azusa seems pleased, the glint in his eye evident. "That's good, Kuroko. That's good."

Kuroko deflates just slightly. But the decision hasn't been made and he can't fully relax until the ink's dry on paper.

Azusa stands and briefly Kuroko assumes the man is about to assign him the documents, but he steps past his desk all the way to the door. He almost thinks the manager is about to leave perhaps to grab whatever he needed outside of the office, but then there's the click of a lock. It's not an improvement by any means and Kuroko no longer knows what he's doing. They're locked inside. He tries to breathe, tries to reason with himself in spite of the conflicting panic. His contract is still at risk.

Azusa returns to his chair, a large number with cushioned arm rests and sits as if nothing's wrong. "Get up," he orders.

Kuroko rises but doesn't come any closer despite the obvious cue. Azusa eyes him, having spun the chair sideways. "Come here."

He's at a loss for words. The start of a vowel nearly escapes him before the other man cuts him, "Kuroko." His name is a quiet, if impatient call. "Do you or do you not want to continue to be part of this team? I make one call and you're either here next season or a prefecture away."

This is threatening, like a python baring its fangs and exactly the sort of thing Azusa is revered for. He's as quick and final as a snakebite, scouting unknown gems and making careers out of them. This is how he builds an empire.

Kuroko approaches him. When there isn't two feet between them, Azusa says, "Kneel."

He's stunned into silence because the vague idea of where this is all going becomes crystal clear. But it can't be. Azusa Shige is the man responsible for one of the best teams in the country and he is asking Kuroko to blow him for a contract.

"I'm sorry?" He isn't sorry. He is afraid.

Azusa grins, sharp and predatory. "Get on your knees and show me what 3 million yen feels like."

He chokes. "You're serious?"

"Of course." Azusa stifles a laugh. "Get with the program, kid. I've got a meeting in an hour."

In what world does this make sense? He's never liked giving head and he's pretty bad at it. Kagami can attest to this. God, Kagami. "Sir, I–"

Azusa slams his hand on the polished mahogany, anger rolling off of him in waves. "Where would you like to transfer next year?" He taps his fingers in consideration. "Aichi? Kanagawa? Kyoto? The Dolphins got rid of that pesky trick shooter, you know? Said they didn't want a ball hog."

Playing for another team at another city, separated by far too many miles to count sounds like a very real possibility, one that's about to be true. Kuroko doesn't want to live away from Kagami. He doesn't want to go on online chat rooms just to talk to him until their bodies give out on them and they have to retire from the sport. He doesn't want any of it.

Kuroko kneels with his eyes turned down, crimson with shame, heart pounding. He keeps his gaze trained on the carpet, doesn't breathe, doesn't twitch. He kneels and Azusa, legs spread, claims a fist in his hair and tugs forward, his face near colliding with the man's crotch.

"You have no idea how often I thought of this." He takes off his belt, visibly hardening beneath the fabric of his trousers. Kuroko watches him take out his cock, shove it into his face. His own eyes begin to water when the pull at his scalp becomes too much but he doesn't protest. The contact smears precome across the bridge of his nose and the bitter tang makes him want to gag. He doesn't even have anything in his mouth yet.

Azusa notices and croons, "Oh, come on. Ease up, pretty." He tilts his chin that Kuroko has to look him in the eye as he smiles. He lifts two fingers and pries his lips open. Kuroko coughs, wanting them out, and it only serves to fuel Azusa's enthusiasm. "You've got a little fight in you, don't you?"

Kuroko has had it. He bites down, hard.

Azusa jolts, fingers gone. A second later he's backhanded hard enough to make his head spin, his teeth cutting the inside of his cheek. He wants to spit out the blood, but he knows it won't do him any good so he doesn't. He's jerked by the hair again and his vision goes spotty, blurring with tears. "I've no idea," Azusa begins, seething, "why Kagami puts up with you."

That gets the tears to spill.

Kagami and him, they're something of an open secret. Last year after the Division I tournament they'd come clean to the upper management. Azusa had been a friend, even willing to arrange a press conference if necessary. "As long as your eye's on the game, I can't care less about the tabloids," had been what he told the both of them. They'd thanked him.

"I can." Of course their media trainer Kobayashi prefers a subtler outlook. "Your personal lives are your own, you're entitled to them. And while the organization will vouch for you, I highly suggest keeping this private. I know neither of your careers would benefit from public scrutiny of this kind." Followed by a pointed glance at the ace who sheepishly withdraws a hand from Kuroko's lower back. Code for: Bros don't do that, homos do.

Azusa had not once turn that, turn them into a weapon. Not until now.

The resistance is drained out of him and Azusa most likely recognizes it, loosening his grip. The allowance comes with a price, when every word out of him is a knife. "You're really gone for Kagami, aren't you?" He glides a thumb over his cheek, then rests his palm there. It's all too reminiscent of how Kagami had hold him earlier. "You are. You really are." He hums, astonished. "Imagine if he were to find out, things will get ugly. Brave, strong fellow like him, you'd understand."

This is it. There's only one thing that Azusa can really use against him. The man knows it, too. "You'll do anything for him, won't you? To keep him safe? To let him play and be the star he's always meant to be?"

There is no point in saying yes when it's written all over his face. Kuroko just wants him to stop, he doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to hear anything anymore. "Please just... Please."

"There you go." Azusa grins, smug. He shuts his eyes tightly, lets his mouth fall open, grimacing when Azusa pushes himself into his tongue. The taste mingles with the blood. "Suck."

He obeys and slips into submission. Soon the realization weighs on him heavily. He can't do this, can't do this willingly. Azusa doesn't seem to mind his lack of participation, content to take over. His hand finds its way to the nape of his neck, shoving roughly, his cock hitting the back of his throat. The man fucks his mouth like that.

He's never had much skill in this department but Azusa's dick is leaking all the same and it isn't like he has the luxury of a choice when he's having trouble breathing. He just wants this to be over, to go home and forget it ever happened.

Azusa releases him after a particularly nasty wheeze. Kuroko heaves, a trail of spit running down his jaw. He barely has enough air when Azusa pushes into his mouth again, dragging him down. He forces himself to cooperate, sniffling.

"Kiddo," Azusa groans, close. "I'm almost jealous Kagami has you to himself. I don't like to share."

Kuroko prays he doesn't make him swallow. He does, he holds him there gagging, leaving him with no other option when he comes down his throat in spurts. Some of it dribble onto his chin. He's dizzier than expected, catching himself on the palms of his hands when he falls forward as soon as Azusa lets go. An awful throb pulses through his temples and he doesn't bother looking up when the man zips up and stands.

This is real, he reminds himself. Azusa tosses him several sheets of tissue. They flutter to the ground beside him. "Clean up and get going, would you? I have a meeting to attend."

* * *

He throws up in a shrub by the side of the road, pulling over at an empty street when he can't take it anymore. It's just bile, really, and it scrapes his throat raw. He makes a detour at a small grocery store, purchases a bottle of water, mints and a mouthwash. He uses the entirety of the mouthwash, gurgling a pool of the alcohol brand and spitting by the sewage of the parking lot. He drinks a third of the bottle, chews on a mint even if it makes the wound inside his mouth sting.

When he gets back Kagami is in the kitchen, judging by the whir of the exhaust fan. Kuroko wants nothing more than to bathe and then nap, but his boyfriend catches him before he can flee. He's eager, but he isn't a wide eyed sixteen year old anymore so his expression is a little more subdued and twice as magnetic. Kuroko meets him halfway, a moth to a flame.

"How was it?" Kagami asks, hopeful.

"It..." Kuroko says, "It went fine." His jaw hurts. For one fleeting moment he's scared Kagami will see through the lie.

"That's great," Kagami says, eyes softening. "Hey, you okay? You look a little peaky."

"I'm good," he answers.

Kagami starts to walk towards him, a hand about to pat his head. Before Kuroko can control himself he dodges it, swerving away and flinching. He pretends it's just him brushing off his hair being mussed, but even he likes Kagami's pats. Kagami doesn't take it personally, shrugging as his hand falls limply to his side. He does however look a tad confused.

"Sorry," Kuroko blurts. He doesn't even want to entertain the idea of explaining what happened. There's no explanation that would end well. "I guess I am feeling a little lousy today."

Kagami sighs like it fits. "Can't say I'm surprised. You barely touched anything on your plate earlier and you skipped dinner yesterday." He tangles their fingers together and it's a lot nicer, Kuroko thinks. "I'll fix up something, okay?"

Kuroko nods. He doesn't trust his voice enough to reply.

* * *

That night he sleeps with his back tucked against Kagami's chest, the sensation not all that different from having a furnace behind him. Kuroko likes the rare occasion Kagami doesn't shave, likes the feeling of his stubble rubbing against his ear, a faint trickle of sand. It's ticklish but also soothing and he doesn't move away when Kagami nestles against his neck, planting open mouthed kisses. Every inhale is a sigh and he trails down into the dip of his collarbone, adoring.

It's good when Kagami hefts his leg slightly and fucks him lying down on his side, he likes it, he moans and he comes because it's Kagami and Kuroko loves him.

Later Kagami snores, soft breathy noises and is dead to the world. Even then he's still there, holding him in his sleep, an arm slung protectively across his torso.

I get to stay with him, Kuroko thinks. I get to keep my job.

He clamps a hand around his mouth and cries.


	2. Chapter 2

They spend most of the upcoming week separately since Tatsuya's in town and Kagami more or less plays glorified chauffeur and Kuroko isn't a fan of Ageha or the rest of Ginza. This gives him the room to adjust, reintegrate himself, it's feeble but adequate since Kagami has stopped eyeing him quizzically when he and his brother in all but name joins them before the latter's send off in a homely barbecue. He's still met by mildly concerned glances from time to time and he can tell Kagami has unvoiced questions hanging in the air, only he has no clue where to begin.

His guilt prompts him to start training again, harder than before, enough to have Kagami of all people asking him to take it easy. He had come dangerously close to losing everything, losing his number and training is how he gets to keep it. The cardio, the dribbling, the ball handling. He wants to believe this is what will get him there. He spends most of his time like this, the ache of constant fitness consuming his muscles.

Then he startles in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep and it's all too easy to remember he gets to keep his jersey last time because he sucked the manager's cock.

It's a testament to how early it is that Kagami isn't even up when he returns from his jog around the neighborhood.

* * *

They're on their way to the qualifiers when Azusa dials him and Kuroko is more than tempted to not pick up. But in the end it's foolish to even consider it. The man is a person of authority and not only that he is a direct authority over everything that comes with his profession. You don't get to bypass the man in charge when he calls.

"Hello," Kuroko greets.

"Hey, kid. How has the off season been treating you?" Azusa asks, like it is normal between them.

Maybe it can be. Kuroko wants it to be. He tells the man how it's been. That he's kept up with the protein intake and ran on the beach.

"Thought I'd drop by and see how your training's coming along, make sure you're on the right track," Azusa says after he's briefed him. It seems legit, they've all done this before, the inspections, him included. He has little reason to suspect Azusa when the man is following protocol. "Are you clear this afternoon? I'll bring the new away colors as well, so you won't have to wait for them in the mail." In fact he's being downright helpful.

Kuroko's silent for a few moments, then Azusa asks, "Well?"

Kagami is in earshot of his replies, he's scrolling through a tablet while sipping a mug of hot mocha by the island. Kuroko watches him smile when he catches his eye and knows he's the one person he never wants to disappoint. "Yeah, come over."

* * *

Call him naive, Kuroko wants to believe it's just a regular inspection of his regimen. It's the most logical thing, he even offers the executive some tea because he hadn't been raised in a barn. The flicker of hope dies immediately when Azusa strolls into their home gym and more or less implies Kagami ought to make himself scarce.

Kagami's response is a raised eyebrow that he's sure will earn him an actual grilling, but the man acquiesces, rolling his shoulders back before making his way out to the veranda.

Azusa trails after Kuroko toward the center of the room where all the equipment had been. "I called Haruka earlier, asked for your chart. You've lost a couple of pounds, but you're putting them back on, though too slowly for my liking. Are you on keto?"

Okay, maybe this isn't going to be bad. Azusa had talked to the team's nutritionist. "Mediterranean," Kuroko says. "She told me slow is good, because it means I won't shred the weight as fast."

"Alright, I trust your judgment." The man is wearing dark slacks and a blazer, a pocket square peeking out of the navy number. Kuroko feels comparatively under dressed in threadbare yoga gear despite being in the confines of his own home.

Azusa says, "Walk me through your set."

Kuroko gets on the treadmill, warming up. The feeling of the man's eyes following his every move is honestly unsettling and it hasn't even been ten minutes when Azusa tells him, "Stop."

He doesn't argue and rushes through the cool down, switches off the machine, steps down.

"Weights," he tells him, gesturing to the bench. There's eighty pounds on each side because that's how much Kagami starts with and Kuroko is certain he won't even make it past twenty reps. He's nowhere close to that level. Besides he doesn't really want Azusa to spot him.

He nudges the fly contraption instead, because it's more agreeable and a lot safer by default for not having to rely on anyone else. "I usually–"

"The weights, kid," Azusa insists.

His feet turns to lead. He eyes the door but it's useless, Kagami is on the balcony downstairs and they're in a soundproofed room. They had built this place together, padded the walls and everything. Even if he screams himself stupid Kagami wouldn't hear. What would he even say? How would he explain?

He gathers himself and sits on the bench before lying back. Azusa is staring at him from above the bar and he feels horribly vulnerable, the vague onset of a sudden dryness to his throat.

"I don't have all day, you know?" Azusa reminds him when he just lies there.

He curls his fingers on the bar, steadies himself and lifts. It's not the heaviest he's ever done, but it's also not what he would open with. More than anything what disturbs his balance is those eyes on him. He tightens his core and endures it through gritted teeth, making sure his arms are in the right position for it to be relatively painless. Azusa doesn't tell him to stop, keeps eyeing him as if to go on and he keeps at it until his joints feel tender to the point of inflamed. By then he's lost count of how many reps, he's surely past his limit. His shirt is soaked and clinging to his skin.

"Stop," Azusa finally says. "Stand up."

He does, gingerly. The other man looks at him, appraising, places a hand on his sweaty shoulder. It sends something like a shiver through his spine. Seconds pass in a standstill. Then Azusa presses down, nails digging into his collar.

He tries to unlatch himself only to be pushed down, and before he can really put some distance between them Azusa kicks the back of his knee, knocking him forward. He stumbles, knees hitting the mats, the rest of him slamming into the bench. Pain stabs through his stomach, and he's winded. A foot on his calf then Azusa's weight is on him, a straining pressure that only makes it harder to breathe.

"Get off–" He yells, only to find a hand smothering him. "Grr–fff–"

"Now, now." Azusa fucking shushes him when he continues to hiss garbled words. "You don't want Kagami to know, do you? Don't want him to find out about this? About us?"

He whips away at the hot breath on his ear, but his thrashing is no more than a small inconvenience to the man. If anything it encourages Azusa to pin him more securely. His arms have started to cramp and he can't move, the hand suppressing the scream torn out from him. He screams until he's lightheaded.

"Are you quite done?" Azusa asks, amused. He lets go of his mouth, squeezes the back of his neck instead, forcing him face down on the bench. He has a visceral image of the position's outcome and tries elbowing the other to no avail since his legs have gone numb. "Calm down, kiddo, calm down."

"I won't fucking calm down–"

"Little brat." Azusa says the word brat like love. Like he likes him mouthy. "Relax, will you? Make this easier on yourself. Don't make Kagami worry."

He whines and snaps when the hand reaches out. Mouthing off is one thing, biting him another. Azusa cuffs him for trying, laughing, apparently not surprised. "You begged me for your place, you realize that? Begged me to do this to you. You let me do this."

He hardly has to listen when the truth carves itself into him, drenching him in horror because he did. He did. He had let Azusa leverage sex like it is part of a transaction. He had agreed to it. He let him then and he lets him now, Azusa bending him over with Kagami in the same building. If Kagami knows the reason he gets to keep playing, why Azusa chooses to renew his contract, what would he think? What would he think about him stooping low enough to resort to this? He's an elite, he's a linchpin who's carried them time and time again. And he's fucking his boss to stay in the game.

He stiffens without knowing it and Azusa brushes his side, kneading and caressing like it's what he needs. Fingers latch on his shirt and pulls, weaving the fabric off of him and he's speechless because he knows what Kagami will think. He would be disgusted.

He would be right to.

"There's a good boy," Azusa says. The praise only nauseates him. The sweat damp shirt is rolled and stuffed into his mouth, tugged on each corner and twisted into a knot like a makeshift gag. He clenches his teeth into it. His knuckles lose color from how hard he's grasping the bench. Azusa yanks down his pants, slips a hand between his ass. He prepares him with no more than saliva but it's a small relief when he hears the crack of plastic.

The man pushes his length into him, the inches stretching him far too quickly for it not to hurt, but his comfort has never been important. Azusa bottoms out, the texture of latex grinding into him. He keeps his eyes closed as the man grunts, beginning to piston in and out. His cock is thick and snug inside him, each stroke raking little tears that make themselves known. He isn't wet enough for this. He can't get wet enough. There's a part of him that's glad he isn't aroused, because his body would betray him and another that wishes the pain would lessen, even if it meant that.

Before long Azusa thrusts at a punishing rhythm. He wants to keep quiet but it hurts too much. He's sure he's bleeding at this point. He alternates between keening and shuddering, eventually falling still. His tears are silent when Azusa's balls smack into him in a loud squelch.

The man cares for nothing more than his own release, that much is clear and he's struck by how different Kagami is, how– No. No, thinking about Kagami makes him want to sob.

"Ease up, kiddo," Azusa says. He sounds breathless, like he's high on pleasure. "I like it tight as much as the next guy, but you're hurting yourself here. Open up for me."

He tries. He tries and he fails. He cries while Azusa fucks him on the bench, bent in half. Azusa is fucking him in his own house and he almost giggles when his only concern is how the hell will he practice at the stadium tomorrow.

* * *

He wipes the bench with his soiled shirt a little after Azusa departs, but he's certain the thing is never going to be clean enough for him to ever want to use it. He showers, his hands are shaking that he keeps dropping the fucking soap and he doesn't want to look down to see if the water's pink.

He picks up the fallen soap bar for the umpteenth time when Kagami peeks in. He startles and the soap slides onto the tiles again. "Knock please?"

"I did," Kagami says.

"Oh."

Kagami lets it go when he doesn't offer anything else. His heart starts thumping when the other doesn't leave, instead patiently watching him rinse off. It isn't odd for him to take longer showers after a workout. But it is odd for him to be so wrapped in his own head to not feel his presence.

"Azusa says you're doing great with the training plan," Kagami says, not knowing it's just the thing that makes him unsteady on his feet.

He's grateful the stream is there to obscure his expression because he wants to vomit. "Mhmm."

Kagami, as expected, steps in and slides open the glass screen. He doesn't seem to care about the tiny splatters that bounce off the floor starting to wet his jeans. He eyes him, concerned. "You sure you're okay?"

He nods. "Yeah. I'll be done in a minute."

Kagami still looks like he thinks something's up but he leaves him be after that.

* * *

They lie on the gazebo after dinner that night, because it's a nice summer night and the breeze is pleasantly cool even if he's crawling under his skin. The sky is an inky black and the stars are small silver drops. It's pretty and romantic. He likes it, normally.

"Is it..." Kagami starts, it's the first time he's spoken since they sat there in the quiet. "Is it the team? Do you want another one?"

It isn't often that he sees Kagami nervous. It says something that Kagami even had to ask. Kuroko moves closer to his side, ignoring the lingering burn in his back and tells him, "No."

Kagami continues to stare at his lap, mumbling, "Are you sure–"

He takes Kagami by the jaw and kisses him before he can finish the sentence. It's funny that he can count the handful of times he's done this, kiss first, when they've been together for years. Kagami does it all the time. After wins, after baskets, he does it whenever they're close enough, whenever it feels right. He hates himself because he doesn't and when he does he does it out of need. "I am. I really am."

Kagami's lips are still parted, like he's trying to decide if he can trust that answer.

"I love you," he says, and Kagami looks at him like nothing else exists. His eyes are deep and soulful, and earnestly happy that he wants to always tell him. "I love you, and I want to be with you."

Kagami says, "I love you, too."

* * *

"Wake up." Kagami rouses him early the next morning, chucking a pillow against his arm. "We need to go running."

Ah, Kagami beats him to it this time. He buries himself deeper under the sheets and winces. Right. The pain is a dull sting that only grows more prominent with every shift. "I think... I think I have to skip this one."

Kagami's eyes are drawn, brows furrowed. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he says. He goes for a smile. "Yeah, I just... I'm a bit sore from last night."

Which isn't a lie, technically.

Kagami seems bewildered for one second, trying to zero in on the cause, apparently at loss. "Really?" He frowns. "Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?"

"No, nothing like that," he says immediately. It eases the look of guilt on Kagami somewhat. "It just, it got a little uncomfortable towards the end. It's really nothing. It was good. You were good."

The explanation convinces Kagami, but he's still frowning. Kuroko leans up and reaches for him. "It's okay."

Kagami has one knee on the bed, kissing him in apology. "Sorry," he says, pecking him on the nose then on the mouth.

He smiles and kisses back.


	3. Chapter 3

It's simple not to think about it when Azusa isn't there. It's harder to forget, because he still feels like he's constantly stuck in a tunnel when he falls to the trap of thinking about it. But it's possible to file the worries away, if temporarily, and it's as good as reprieve when he succeeds.

But summer draws to a close and the leaves turn to apricot. Soon they will brown and scatter like ashes in the wind. The days until the fall training camp begin to tick down, and he, he can't sleep. Every time he closes his eyes his heartbeat is thunder roaring in his ears. He has the distinct feeling of being pinned down like a butterfly on a cork board.

He follows his instinct when his body urges him to get up. He converts his anxiety into bone deep exhaustion. It makes its home inside him, and each time a shadow flies close enough to touch he withers, spins around with fear in his throat. He's so, so out of it. He hates it, he hates being uneasy in his own bedroom. In their bed. In Kagami's arms.

* * *

The third time it happens, Kagami says, "Everyone goes through it."

Kuroko is lying flat on the bed, legs dangling off its side. He's turned away from Kagami since he doesn't think he can mask his expression. He should be reasonably upset, if embarrassed. Instead he feels nothing and he's just staring into space, like part of him is cut loose and he's suddenly plunged into the void, dove headfirst into it.

"Yeah," he says, because silence isn't an acceptable response. It does happen to everyone, it has happened to him before, but this is different. Now he can pinpoint exactly why. And it's a massive why that won't disappear.

He rubs a hand across his face and steels himself. When he shifts to regard Kagami, the other is leaning back on an elbow, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Kuroko kisses that smile. He's been doing that a lot lately, initiating. While he's doing that his hand skims past Kagami's ribs, his abs, god is he toned, but before he can go any lower his wrist is caught and redirected to the man's side, resting at the edge of his hip.

"It's alright," Kagami says.

No, it isn't. He shouldn't limit himself from getting sex just because Kuroko can't get hard.

When he doesn't respond Kagami says again, "It's alright. It really is."

He's kept his eyes closed the whole time. He finally opens them and sighs. "Sorry for ruining it."

The look Kagami gives him is fond, gentle. "You haven't ruined anything."

Unconsciously he starts to trace small circles on Kagami's side. He loathes how much he wants this, how he can't have it. He hates that he knows Kagami will always be okay with it. Maybe that is the worst thing.

Kagami holds him to his chest, and pressed there he can hear his heart rumble. He mouths into his hair, "Let's just stay like this."

Not moving is easier, after that.

* * *

In nineteen days they'll have training camp. Without Borders isn't usually a big deal to him, he does fine every time, but his nerves have been spiking lately that he can't stop thinking about how many ways it can go wrong. He's spiraling. He seeks distraction like it is air, which leads him into desiring sex more than he ever has.

He's on all fours on the bed and Kagami is hot behind him, kneeling in the space between his legs, rutting into him. Each thrust buries him to the hilt and Kuroko takes it, head hanging between his shoulders as they hit home. He likes being able to feel the tremor in his thighs, the tightness coiling in his abdomen, the strain arching his back.

It's good, Kagami isn't capable of anything less so he doesn't know why he still isn't erect. It should be working. Kagami chooses that moment to lean forward, a helping hand about to wrap around his cock because he's sweet like that and Kuroko almost wishes he doesn't. Because immediately Kagami stills. "Kuroko," comes out as a huff of breath, and his body sags.

"'S fine, keep going," he pants, angling back into him, wishing the other would just do as he's asked. "I'm fine."

Kagami growls, drawing back all too quickly and Kuroko grimaces when he pulls out, slips into the bathroom. When the door bangs shut he allows himself to fall into the pillows and go limp.

He knows this had to happen sooner or later, resigns himself to it. He has been pushing it, in fact he's lost count of how often he's been unable to get it up. It's not Kagami's fault, really, the other's done nothing but pull his weight and then some. But his rejection is fresh and being left alone on the bed isn't a very good balm to ignore the pain of it. He sighs, forces himself to head into the guest bathroom downstairs for a quick shower.

The water's still running when he pulls on a pair of khakis and an old jumper that he knows Kagami is taking his time. It hardly matters and Kuroko busies himself until the other man comes down. He can make breakfast. He can do that.

He fills the kettle, cranks on the stove. He searches the pantry, finds a carton of eggs that are a few days away from expiring in the fridge and cracks them open in a bowl. He puts the pan on medium heat, chops some mushroom and bell peppers. He dices some ham into little cubes, graters a bit of cheese. He's a relatively poor cook compared to Kagami but even he won't screw up omelets.

He's just piled the portions into plates when Kagami enters, damp hair still sticking to his forehead. Kuroko hands him a mug of tea and his plate.

Kagami accepts the food in shameful quiet. Between bites Kuroko watches the words nearly come out of him, watches them die at his throat.

After a few minutes he says, flushing, "I didn't..." Kuroko just waits until he starts again, "I didn't want this to be just me using you."

"Trust me, you weren't," Kuroko says, setting his own mug down on the island. "You weren't using me."

He almost laughs because he doubts Kagami even knows what that means, doubts that Kagami has it in him to do it, use someone like that. But it isn't appropriate so he doesn't. He knows the difference between being given something and taking it, knows it intimately because that is his life now.

Kagami still looks vaguely guilty, eyes trained on the counter that he says, "You made me feel good, I'm the one who couldn't..." He trails off because Kagami already knows what he's referring to and he's embarrassed enough as it is.

Kagami abandons his stool, circles the breakfast bar and his arms find their way around his waist. "I'm sorry," he says, an apology in the way his nose burrows into his neck.

"You don't have to apologize," Kuroko tells him. "It isn't your fault."

"It isn't yours either," Kagami protests. And lower he murmurs, "And I just went and left."

Kuroko pats his elbow, leaning back into the solid warmth. "You were about to come. I get it. Don't feel bad."

You can frown with your eyes, Kuroko finds out because it's exactly what Kagami does. "You know you can always talk to me about it, right?"

He smiles, slow and indulgent. The sentiment is pleasant but he knows this isn't one of those times he can rely on it. He lies, "I know."

* * *

Camp runs smoothly and is over before he knows it. The preseason begins and it isn't half bad. He hasn't spotted Azusa apart from the few times he's stayed around practice or exhibition matches. And while Kuroko finds his presence troubling it isn't hard to dismiss him as another figure in the stands when he's playing front and center court, when the audience is roaring and he has to make split second decisions for the score.

They play the Golden Kings and Kuroko gets in eight assists and it feels good. It's hardly a reason to celebrate since it's just the preseason but he'll appreciate the little things where he can. Maybe his summer training is starting to pay off.

Kagami leaps down from the dunk as the buzzer goes off, looks at him and doesn't stop as they crowd together as a team and huddle into the locker room like the sweaty overgrown men they are.

It's a lewd look meant for private but he's unabashed and Kuroko doesn't blame him, post-game adrenaline tends to turn them into teenagers and he isn't immune to it either. Besides Kagami hasn't looked at him like that in a while, with fervent interest and he misses it, he doesn't want it to wane.

It's all the more incentive to wash and change lightning fast as the notion of impatience grips him and refuses to let go. They can't get back to the hotel sooner. Kuroko already has a way to sneak into his room, curfew be damned and he knows Kagami will devour him as soon as he does.

When they're both clothed Kagami tugs him aside in full view of everyone and asks, "You ready to head back?" His eyes are dark and hooded, and as eager as they can be.

"Yeah," he says, nodding.

The interaction isn't lost on their onlookers if the suggestive grins around them are any indication. Their teammates have ribbed them endlessly for this. Neither of them minds it.

"See you all tomorrow," Kagami says to the entire locker room and the wolf whistles are like choir to his ears, follow them out as they walk hand in hand.

* * *

Kagami's kiss is bruising and he returns it sloppily, wetly. It makes him confident the room can catch on fire and Kagami would still be there pressed against him, chapped lips and tongue running through his mouth. His palms are rough but his touch is soft, and Kuroko whines, breathy little moans that spur him on, and suddenly he's flat on his back against the mattress, the wind knocked out of him. He likes that too, when Kagami plays rough. He likes anything Kagami does.

Kuroko gives him free reign and the ace sinks down to the foot of the bed, unbuckling his belt with agile fingers. He teases him with his hands then his mouth, lips enveloping him with no warning that it's honestly hard for him not to thrust up. Kagami is a tough act to follow like this, he's downright brutal, sucking and fondling with sheer intent that speaks of experience. He knows just how to rile him and Kuroko's swept up in him, his breathing ragged and thoughts static.

It's been so long since Kagami had wanted him like this, wanted him this bad that he's burning with it. If he's compensating for the fact that Kuroko's unlikely to reach orgasm, then he's a saint and he probably doesn't deserve him, but he knows that already and it isn't a sin to enjoy his efforts.

Kagami stops briefly, pulling back to ask, "Let me ride you."

His voice is a smoky husk and Kuroko nods at the sound, only remembering to speak when the other won't move unless he answers. "Yeah..."

Kagami wastes no time to climb on top of him, then he's necking him with his legs spread out, a clear invitation. Kuroko does his part, fingers him open, being as careful as he can because they don't do this often and Kagami isn't really used to it. He's taken by how much he wants to please him, to do well, but it seems he's doing something right when Kagami shudders against him, groaning into his mouth. Oh, and his fingers are soaked.

The reaction is encouraging but he still has to make sure, "Are you good?"

"Very, very good," Kagami rasps, trembling all over him, slick with sweat. "So good."

He believes him. Kagami rarely dissolves into incoherence, but he's there alright, the syllables wobbly as they roll from his tongue. He retracts his hand as Kagami moves to fully straddle him, then lowers himself on his cock, slowly guides it inside with his own.

Kuroko psyches himself a little when Kagami rocks shallowly into him before making good on his promise to ride him as the hesitance fades and he crushes their hips together. Kagami is getting off from having him inside of him, doesn't even need to stroke himself. Kagami is giving him everything and if he gets soft now, he will regret it for a long, long time.

He sits up and the angle has Kagami gasping, and he takes him by the mouth, thumbs the line of his cheekbone when they drift apart. The thing is Kuroko gets to see Kagami every day, gets to wake up next to him every morning. They're close and this isn't even the closest they've ever come. But Kagami surrounding him makes him lost and heady, reminds him how overwhelming his presence is, his devotion. He forgets everything else.

You're it, Kuroko thinks. You're it for me.

And he comes.

* * *

"Well, that was..." Kagami collapses from above him to his side. He had followed soon after, going tight around him, shooting down his stomach. He chuckles at the mess, laughter in his eyes as he stares at him.

Kuroko presses a lazy kiss on his jaw once he remembers how to breathe. "Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

The next day they step off the court after a practice game. The contagious air of a good match even gets him, the half-smile plastered on his face. It falls when Chiyo calls out from across the paint, waving to get his attention. "Yo, Kuroko. Azusa wants to see you after the clean-up. He says make it quick."

There is nothing out of the ordinary about that. Impromptu meetings are common for headlining players and Chiyo's a teammate, the shooting guard gets along particularly well with Kagami even, yet it doesn't stop his hands from trembling. "I'll be right there."

He tries to stall for time while showering, but there isn't much he can do. He slips into his clothes and the nerves has him wringing his wrists together. There are still a dozen guys in the changing area, Kagami included.

"Hey," Kuroko says, and Kagami whips around. "Don't wait for me. I'll catch a cab back."

A look flickers across his face. There is a second where he thinks Kagami is going to decline, but then he decides against it, mouth closing where a rejection had been at the tip of his tongue, clears his throat instead. A part of him is repulsed that he's made Kagami feel like he couldn't refuse his requests, bizarre or not, that he no longer even tries to question him let alone talk him out of it. The power forward nods. "Alright. See you at home."

* * *

The instant they're alone in the office Kuroko says, "I had a good game."

If he sounds a little defensive, sue him. Azusa's grin is that of lazy amusement. "I know you did." He motions to the chairs before them. "Have a seat."

He'd rather stand, really. Or bolt out. In truth he's having trouble keeping his eyes glued on the other man instead of the door behind him. "Uh..."

"Kuroko," Azusa says, raising an eyebrow at his meandering. His voice is even, but Kuroko can sense the patience trickling out of him.

His toes curl inside his trainers and he wishes someone else were here, Azusa's PA Hide or Kobayashi, anyone at all. "I can–"

His offer of platitudes is cut short when Azusa says, "You should know I had a lot of calls this week."

He's going to bite a hole through his lip at this rate.

"For Kagami. Offers." If he had not been certain of where this is headed, he is now. He takes the chair, dully looking down at his lap.

"Profitable ones," Azusa adds as if it hadn't been obvious. "Plenty of teams are interested in a powerhouse scorer. A twenty-five point average makes for a sightly auction."

The words bubble from the pit in his stomach as Azusa continues, "Yokohama and Akita made great bids."

Finally he spits them out. "You're lying."

Azusa looks slightly surprised at the accusation, then he smiles. Kuroko doesn't know if he's lying, doesn't have a way to find out but the idea of being toyed with, being manipulated makes him indignant and standoffish.

It doesn't help that those two cities can't be further away from Tokyo and they're everything Kagami despises.

Azusa pushes back against his desk, folds his hands together. "There were other calls, of course, but those two are the ones I'm considering."

How does he keep himself sane in this situation? His hands are shaking from dread and anger. "You won't trade him," he says and it's like he's hearing himself through water, tinny and muted.

"You understand that basketball is a business, don't you?" Azusa asks, and by then it's clear he has taken notice of his fear, is fascinated by it. "I've already had a lot of trouble forcing through your contract. Kagami isn't any better but his prospects are rather attractive." He rises, moves to lean against the table in front of him. "How many points do you score, if you score at all?" The question is mocking and it stings. Kuroko averts his eyes, not wanting to give the other man the satisfaction of knowing that. "What do I do here, Kuroko?"

There's no correct answer to that.

"Akita seems great, doesn't it?"

Akita is the worst. The horizon sets early, the nights are dreary and it's a twilight zone of a city with the constant biting chill of long winters. It might as well be like having the world turn backwards on its axis. Kagami loves the sun, the open waters and Akita is the furthest thing from that, filled with snowy blizzards half the year.

Azusa may be bullshitting him for all Kuroko knows. He's not above pulling tricks, not above making him feel gullible for not calling out his bluff. But letting Kagami be transferred to a place he hates, letting his own contract be the reason why is an objectively worse feeling. It makes him sick to his stomach. There isn't a point in staying here without Kagami. He can't take that chance.

"He's not expendable," Kuroko says.

"True, I'll give you that." Azusa agrees. "But he'll make more money on another team. And you know I'll have to choose what's best for the organization. Besides there's no such thing as an invaluable asset. Everything has its price." A pause and then, "Should I trade him, Kuroko?"

"No," he mutters.

"What was that?"

"No," he says, louder. "You shouldn't."

Azusa unfolds his arms and heads for the door. He doesn't breathe as it locks. "Get up," Azusa says once he returns to his post.

He doesn't. He doesn't because his involvement in this next part is anything but willing.

The manager sighs and hefts him up, bends him over the desk. The wooden corners are digging hard into his hipbones and he has to turn his head sideways when he's shoved face first into a stack of files and pens, push his arms forward to cushion the impact. Azusa reaches around him, unbuttons his fly and the sound of the zipper being tugged down is almost painful to his ears. His pants are pushed down to his ankles and his boxers follow.

"I–" Kuroko's face is burning in the folds of his elbows. "I have training tomorrow."

The plea is as useless as it is weak, it tumbles from his mouth with little heed. He's bargaining of all things, he's begging Azusa to fuck him gently instead of senseless. The realization mortifies him.

Azusa chuckles. He jerks at the slap on his ass. "Don't worry about that, kiddo. I'll take care of you." The words are a purr tickling the shell of his ear and he flinches.

At least there's lube this time and he thinks that would ease the two fingers that bully their way inside him, but they feel as alien, horrible and wrong as the first time. He starts, hard enough that Azusa has to wrestle him down, keep him from wrenching away.

He twists in a third finger and it hurts, it's still rough and dry and Kuroko sinks his teeth into the flesh of his arm to stop the noises from coming out.

I have to train tomorrow, is a thought that consumes him.

He can't skip that. It isn't like jogs around the park with Kagami.

He's biting through skin, but the high pitched breaths are still racked from his chest.

Azusa thrusts in, pulling back before he's even sheathed completely. He isn't loose enough that the cock catches with each movement, sears a hiking discomfort that has him squeezing his eyes shut. He hates this, he hates Azusa and he hates himself. He wants to be anywhere else but here.

It's mercifully fast. Azusa moans into his neck, stiffens and comes. His spunk is sticky between his thighs where it leaks from the condom. His cheeks are wet.

"Clean yourself up and go." The box of tissues is set down in front of him.

His jeans feel tight enough to chafe when he shuffles into them. He doesn't take the tissues, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. "Will you trade him?" His voice is shaky.

Azusa smiles. "Not today."

* * *

He takes another shower, it isn't nearly long enough but the lights outside of the locker room have dimmed and it's his cue to leave.

He can't go home like this. Not now, not period. Maybe it's paranoia but he can't help thinking that Kagami will see through him the moment he walks through their front door.

And Kagami won't want to have anything to do with him. Because what he's doing is sickening. What he's doing makes him worthless.

He can't even disguise anything, can't even change clothes because Kagami had taken his equipment bag. He's helpful like that, but now Kuroko smells like sweat and someone else's spend. He wonders if people can tell as they pass him, decides he doesn't want to know.

He calls for a cab and the driver doesn't pay him any mind that he's clear for a bit. They slow down at a red light, just a couple of blocks from home and his breath starts to feel like it's being punched out of his throat. He tries to inhale as deeply as he can but the air feels sharp in his skull and it's even worse than being lightheaded.

If he goes home Kagami is going to ask how it went, what Azusa said, he'll smile, all trusting and bright and Kuroko can't face him.

"Hey, uh..." He swallows, needing to catch his breath. It's still short and pained, spasms through him like shocks of electricity that he's dizzy even with his head between his knees.

"Are you gonna puke?" The cabbie asks, peeved. He's pulling over to the curb, obviously troubled by the idea of having to clean vomit off the backseat.

It takes a few after the car stops before Kuroko can look up and answer, "No, I... I'm good."

The driver turns from his seat, unconvinced at the unsteady reply. "You sure? You look green enough to me. Don't want to stop by a hospital or something?"

"No." The pub across the street comes into view and he decides on the spot. Anything is better than having to see Kagami right away. He reaches for his wallet, handing the other a few bills. "Can you just drop me off here?"

The man is glad to be rid of him as well as the possibility of a mess so he doesn't argue, accepting what he's owed.

It really is a good old fashioned pub, with a bell that jingles at his entrance, an older flat screen set on ESPN patrons are watching if they aren't drinking. The air is hazy of cigarette smoke and yellowed by the lamplight.

The bartender is none the wiser, doesn't seem to recognize him and he's grateful that he's at least allowed some anonymity unlike the more memorable bunch of his teammates.

He picks a seat at the outer edge of the bar, orders a vodka tonic. He hasn't done this in a long time if ever, squat somewhere doing nothing with a drink in his hands.

He should head home, shower again and see Kagami. Have the dinner he had made, go to sleep. He's supposed to do that. Hell he wants to do that.

He doesn't.

He stays at the bar, asks for another round and another until he can't keep track how many he's had, stays until the missed calls tally. Eight from Kagami, three from Chiyo and two from Nobu. Until his vision begins to tunnel, colors going murky that he knows it's best he makes for the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He moves to do that and nearly falls when he leaves his stool. His balance is gone too and it's only thanks to one of the servers walking by that he doesn't tumble onto the dirty wood floor. She's young, probably still starting college and she catches him with a sort of readiness that says experience. This happens a lot, probably. He knows she means well when she grips his shoulder to level him, but he still recoils.

"Are you alright, sir?" She's definitely used to this, not panicking the slightest when she asks him.

"I..." His phone stirs again, vibrating like crazy. He grabs it from his inner jacket pocket, sees the caller ID flashing on screen. Kagami is smiling with Nigou on his lap. They're both wet and sticky with sand, water dripping down from where they'd swum in the ocean. It had been taken during the dog's last few weeks with them before he'd been put down. Kuroko had avoided the beach for a while after that.

He remembers taking that photo, remembers every moment of that trip. "I think I need a cab."

* * *

Kagami is hunkered down at the bottom of the stairs when he slips past the front door. He isn't even standing or leaning by the wall, he's sitting down at the first steps like he's been there too long to do anything but. Kuroko is guilty at how pale he is, sitting there in a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants, hair tousled like he's run his hands through them repeatedly. He gives Kuroko a once over and snorts. "Are you fucking kidding me."

It's not even a question. His voice is harsh in the quiet and Kuroko deserves no less. The nice waitress had brewed him a strong coffee while he waits for the cab and he isn't as drunk as before, but considering he'd been sloshed the improvement isn't much. He's not in any shape to be having a conversation of any kind and he doesn't want to. He mumbles, "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Kagami says nothing at that, just stands and walks upstairs.

He's mildly aware Kagami might not want to talk to him tomorrow. He should be disgusted with himself that he's too tired to care right now. He doesn't follow him, knows when he isn't wanted, when being there wouldn't help.

He takes the couch that night, which doesn't happen often, never to be exact, but he wakes up in cold sweat every couple hours, his heart hammering against his rib cage, a scream not quite tearing past his lips. He'd rather be alone for those few seconds of not being able to breathe, disoriented and shaking.

It's best for everyone, really.

* * *

He doesn't get up the next morning, not until he hears the commotion of breakfast from the pantry. He doesn't know if Kagami's being louder than usual or if it's just his hangover. Maybe both.

Maybe Kagami is vindictive because he wakes to the clamor of pots banging on the counter but Kuroko doesn't think he's that cruel, especially because there's still a plate of eggs and buttered toast left on the island for him when he finishes washing off the scent of booze on him in the guest bathroom.

Kagami is dressed already, tablet and bag deposited between them. He's even wearing his shoes inside like he's ready to go. And he probably is. He hasn't said a word to him, not even when Kuroko is at arm's length.

He can't speak. He isn't brave enough to. It's been more than a few moments that he's sure Kagami is about to leave any minute, and it's that thought that gets him to open his mouth. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

Kagami doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't even look at him. He slings the bag over his shoulder and walks out. Out the hallway, out the door.

If he wants to know whether Kagami is still pissed at him, there's his answer.

He forces himself not to think about it as they drive separately to practice. Some of the guys take notice since this is unusual in itself, but they only watch silently.

Their teammates steer clear of Kagami, even Chiyo and Nobu. It doesn't take a lot to see Kagami is brimming with anger. One wrong move and he'll bite someone's head off. Like a wild animal. Kuroko almost regrets not having that discussion immediately last night and letting things stew instead.

He tries to concentrate on training, on the drills and the scrimmage to little success. He's off, his timing's off, he's making bad calls and he isn't paying nearly enough attention for this to work. He can't switch gears. It's also abundantly apparent that the rest of them have taken to placing blame for today's atmosphere with Kagami, and he knows where half the team's bets are going to be with the way they're roughhousing him. Some are more obvious than others, but no one's coming to his aid either. Not with Kagami still pointedly ignoring him.

He's knocked on his rear more times than he can count in recent memory, it's like playing Akashi all over again. Except it's less being tripped and more being barreled into, screens hit as well as a body would. It hurts and each time he stumbles to the side or flat out falls, he's closer to not getting back up.

Chiyo seems thrilled the first few hits and Nobu doesn't hold him back even with a particularly hard one because the captain's disapproval of his currently nonexistent work ethic is quiet but lethal. Nothing says professionalism like showing up to practice hungover.

Only he sees how Kuroko isn't even watching out for the elbows jutting out after a while, just takes them and whatever else comes his way blindly, not even rooting himself to the ground and he starts to look concerned instead.

Chiyo too, that once they're both subbed out he's hovering over Kuroko who clearly needs the breather on the bench more than he does. "Sorry. For earlier." He asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he pants. He has to shrug it off. "Yeah, I..." He nods where he can't muster the words.

It doesn't appease Chiyo, not really, but the man opts to take it, responding by tapping his thigh in what's considered to be a friendly gesture, cloying with sympathy. They've never been for heart to hearts so it might as well be a full on hug.

He shies away from the touch without meaning to. Luckily the other player has already turned around.

* * *

Wordlessly Kuroko offers to take care of dinner that night, he gets right to it without asking and Kagami accepts it for the peace offering it is. He's shit at anything that requires extensive preparation, so dinner is nothing more refined than orange chicken but it's passable.

"I was worried," Kagami says, finally breaking the silence.

He's come to a point where he expects silence that he stares, dumbly.

"I was worried," Kagami repeats. "It's why I'm mad."

His boyfriend is looking at him from across the table and he doesn't know what to say except, "I'm sorry. I should have picked up when you called."

"You should have." Then Kagami sighs and says, "I'm not– I'm not trying to control you, I just–"

"I know," he says quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

Kagami is eyeing his hand like he wants to hold it. He does after a brief moment, his fingers hot as they wrap around his own. "This is about basketball, isn't it?" It's always about basketball, Kagami doesn't say. But he doesn't have to. He shakes his head a little, like he doesn't get it. "I don't know why you're always nervous. After all this time. You work so hard. You know you're a good player."

There's a protest in the way he shrinks at those words and Kagami isn't nowhere foolish enough to miss it. "You _are_ a good player, why can't you see that?"

"I don't know," he says, lamely. He's so fucking afraid of everything. He's afraid of not being able to refuse sex if it meant saving his career, their careers. He's afraid he can't stop feeling the keen burn of letting a man violate him for it. He's afraid he might be able to someday, of what that would mean. He's afraid of Kagami finding out and caring. He's afraid of Kagami finding out and not caring.

He's afraid of being filthy

filthy

filthy

forever.

Kagami senses his distress, enough for him to get up and close the distance between them, pull him into his arms. "Come here." He says, "It's okay, I got you. It's okay."

He must look bad for Kagami to want to comfort him in spite of everything, murmurs, "I'm sorry."

"I know." Kagami rubs his back and says, "I know."


	5. Chapter 5

It gets worse somehow. The season starts and Azusa asks for him in his office every week, sometimes twice. After practice, after games. He tells him to get on his knees if he wants to be sucked off or he has him bent over the desk when he'd rather fuck his ass. They fuck on the couch too sometimes, it's pragmatic and he feels even more like a prostitute, his jeans only riding low enough for access, his face mashed into the pillows. There are spit and tears on them when they come away.

The irony is that the times Azusa summons him without fucking him are actually the worst. The man just looks at him and the anticipation does him in. He feels sick having to sit there for thirty minutes, waiting to be let out.

He says no once, refuses to go when called upon. He gets barred from practice the next day and barges into the man's office anyway, wanting to retaliate although he knows he'll accomplish nothing. Azusa ends up fucking him with no lube with one hand holding down his throat.

He doesn't try anything, after that.

* * *

It takes until December for Kuroko to understand this has nothing to do with his play. It doesn't matter if he's making baskets or not, it doesn't matter if he raises the other starters' point average by a good chunk, if he lasts a full game being effective on court. Azusa wants and Azusa takes and if his play isn't suffering and his contract isn't botched, then he brings in Kagami.

He hates it when Azusa mentions Kagami and the man revels in it, does it to tease him, spite him that he struggles and thrashes before he's made to shut up and take it. He likes it when Kuroko fights under him, grins when he's properly broken in. He likes seeing the bruises form on his stomach where the desk stabs into him.

Kagami notices the marks and asks. But after the first couple of incidents Kuroko acts well enough to deceive him on a regular basis. He feels like scum every time he does. Kagami is the person he trusts the most, used to be the person he trusts most. The person he had shared everything with. In the past he had never lied to Kagami. Now he does it far too often, far too easily.

But he can't stop. He doesn't know how. It's gone on for so long now, months and it's too tangled up to throw a wrench in without risking destruction. What would Kagami say, what would he do, who'd even believe him if he tells. He doesn't think anything feels real anymore.

* * *

Things deteriorate with Kagami too. The change is subtle until it isn't.

Kagami gives him a wider berth around the house, rarely asks questions until he doesn't anymore whenever he comes home well into the night.

Sometimes it's tough for him to consider not asking, he clearly wants to but then he turns away and says, "Nevermind." And Kuroko never gets to hear the question.

Maybe he just doesn't pry because he knows Kuroko is going to lie to him.

There's pity in his gaze or something similar but it's not what he focuses on, not with how much he hates the most glaring change of all. Kagami stops touching him, he does it less and less frequently until he just doesn't entirely.

When they had slept on the same bed, slept together Kuroko has always felt him saddle up against him. Kagami has always enjoyed latching onto him one way or another, like an oversized kid on a jungle gym, like he has trouble computing the concept of personal space. It had taken an adjustment period for Kuroko but he's grown to like it too and it's been that way ever since.

Now there's space between them, and objectively it's a small gap, a hand span of the mattress, maybe two or three. Subjectively it's vast, endless because he has no idea how to bridge it. If he can. If he should.

His hand glides the air above Kagami's shoulder too many nights to count. He withdraws every time.

* * *

He tries to blow Kagami one morning around two weeks before Christmas and fails miserably. He can't make it good, not even close and it's worse because they haven't been active recently.

How is it that he sucks so much cock but doesn't get remotely better at it? He can't take anything in, not even half of Kagami because every inch has him gagging and it's just so bad he wants to cry.

It's like having a gun in his mouth. All he wants to do is spit it out.

God, this is pathetic.

"Hey," Kagami says about the tenth time he's choked. It probably isn't any better for him. He pulls back, coughing and Kagami continues to speak softly, "You can stop now. You don't need to push yourself."

He's been remarkably calm throughout his sore attempt of going down on him, carding his fingers through his hair, stroking gently.

"Sorry." Sorry is a mood killer, sorry is the wrong response but it's the only thing he's capable of saying lately.

Hand behind his neck Kagami pulls him up into his lap then kisses him slow and deep. It should be a good kiss. But it reminds him too much of the last time Azusa almost strangles him and he pulls apart too fast for it to not be noticeable.

"Do you want to fuck me?" The suggestion sounds feeble to his own ears.

Kagami's eyes trail down between them, and he can almost feel him sigh. It's likely due to the sight of him flaccid. "You aren't going to enjoy it," he says, knows well enough by now it isn't worth a try.

That... that's fair. He supposes it isn't, not when he's only gotten hard probably twice in the past month. There isn't any point arguing about it, but he pleads, "Let me– Just let me do something."

"Kuroko–"

"Please." He should fear coming across as desperate and needy, it's not an attractive look on anyone least of all him.

Kagami just takes a breath, rests his chin on his forehead for a few seconds then says, "Okay. Lie down with me."

He rolls over, piles himself neatly against the other man. Kagami settles behind him, fitting like a puzzle piece slotting into place. He's kissing the nook of his shoulder, the concave of his blade and his hands are radiating heat as they wander across his body. It isn't rushed or ridden with lust, as if he only wants to feel him. This is the closest they've been in what feels like too long.

He savors it, weaves his fingers into Kagami's hair, tosses his head back and sweeps in to kiss him when he looks up. It's shallow this way, less stifling, with only a bit of tongue. Kagami lets out a pleased noise, like he's surprised, like he didn't expect him to do it. Kuroko arches into him, drawing more, some even resemble full-fledged moans.

Kagami's cock is slick and hard between his thighs, rubbing against his ass. He relaxes, makes sure to make it good and Kagami begins moving his hips. He doesn't stop kissing Kagami all the while despite the strange position. His thrusts are slow, pushing in rhythm with the gasping breaths against his lips, languid and heavy. He's in no hurry to finish and Kuroko prays he's enjoying this as much as he seems to be, prays he can make this last.

Kagami splays a hand below his waist, pulling him even closer where they're pressed together. There his skin is a healing patch of color, but his touch is the furthest thing from bruising. There is nothing poking into his stomach, nothing constricting his airways. This is how it's supposed to feel, he thinks.

It's a small kindness the other doesn't periodically check if he's hard, because that had been a habit, too. He isn't, but it doesn't mean he's not enjoying this. He is. Kagami's body feels like a cocoon around him, large and encompassing, covering him everywhere. Held like this he doesn't feel starved or cold.

When Kagami comes inside him, it's a gushing warmth that has him sighing. He plants their foreheads together, before burying his face against his neck. Kuroko can feel the sweat matted there, feel him panting into his shoulder.

A minute goes by like that. Then several. Kagami inhales audibly, hands beginning to retract. He's about to move away and Kuroko is unprepared for it. His fingers fold around his wrist, tugs to keep him from going. He's moving on reflex, but he doesn't regret it.

"Just a little longer," he says, hoping he won't need to explain further. He doesn't want this to end. Not yet.

Kagami's eyes soften in understanding. "Okay."

They lie for a while, side by side. Kagami stays.

He pretends he's not clutching onto the remnants of something fading fast.

* * *

They have a party on New Year's Eve to celebrate the coming of another year and the season's highlights. It's become a routine, one of the few occasions they invite people over to their house like adults since New Year's is a reasonably group oriented event, one that isn't fit for dulling it in private unlike most.

Their teammates come, those who don't have plans out of town, and some of their neighbors too. No officials. Just friends. It's nice. It's still a good amount of people though, a lot by his standards and the alcohol doubles the effect. There's plenty of drunk guests even in the opening hours and it has him a bit apprehensive. Still he reminds himself these are people he knows, good people and tries not to be so tense.

He never runs out of interaction and while it had helped ease him from being skittish, it turns into a never ending conversation. There's always someone new to take the place of whoever he had previously talked to, someone else to catch up with. It gets exhausting after the first dozen people. There are those who do a better job at keeping up with hiding how they're faring and sometimes they give him kind, sorry looks but they don't help ease things for him.

Kagami makes for a better host, they can agree on that, but the man is invisible, nowhere in vicinity as he scours the venue. He hasn't been seen in the past hour and it's his party more than anyone's, he should be working the room socializing. He has never liked having to do this on his own.

Kuroko ends up searching for him a quarter to midnight, after another round through the deck. He finds him on the second level balcony with Nobu. They're overlooking the party downstairs. Kagami is slouching with his elbows on the balustrade and Nobu has got a hand patting his back. It's heartfelt and considering their captain isn't the most sensitive or reassuring of their comrades, none of them are really the type, it's something of a rare sight. They're talking in hushed voices. It isn't loud enough to hear unless he's absolutely trying to listen in on what they're saying, but there's something almost apologetic in the way the captain sounds.

For one second he considers eavesdropping, he's certainly able in that respect but he doesn't. He has a feeling he won't want to know. Besides Nobu's twisted a bit, nearly halfway, and he's turned enough to see him approach so he can't have done it even if he had wanted to.

He signals a small wave instead, walking towards them. His hand itches to grab the back of Kagami's shirt but he never really had gotten used to this part, the overt affection, so he rolls down his sleeves to cover them, gives himself something to do. Once they're close enough to form a triangle he asks, "Are you two hiding from everyone?"

"Nah," Nobu says when Kagami only shrugs, fiddling with his half empty pint. "Just wanted to catch up in peace. Did the countdown start already?"

"In a couple minutes," Kuroko replies, noticing he had inched a tiny bit closer to the other without trying to. Just like that Kagami turns, slides an arm around him. It's almost automatic that he breathes easier, but the relief is fast acting and gone as soon as it comes. Because he sees the way Nobu's eyes track the movement, thoughtful and inscrutable.

He fidgets slightly, tucking back stray strands. "We should head downstairs."

Nobu tears his eyes away at the gesture, looking elsewhere as if he's just realized he'd been staring. "Good idea. Catch you both later."

He starts ambling back into the main house and Kuroko means to follow, but Kagami's arms suddenly wound tight around his waist. "Stay with me a bit?" He asks, and it's so earnest that although his heart is racing and his palms are clammy Kuroko stills, nodding.

Kagami's breath is soft in his hair, and he relaxes into him. His hold loosens at the feeling. With Nobu gone they're alone in the balcony. It's quiet even with the faint thumping from the crowd below. His own heartbeat is loud, stretching into the space around them. He likes to imagine Kagami's own feels the same.

Kagami angles them backwards to one of the lounge chairs on deck, leans down to kiss him once they're standing next to it. Kuroko is pulled into him like this, a dwarf star in Kagami's orbit. It's simple to fall into the daybed, fall into him. They kiss, swaying with it and Kagami tastes like whisky and beer. It's New Year's though and Kuroko can hardly judge him. What matters is Kagami isn't stepping away, he's here and he's kissing him.

They lie back, legs tangled, their feet skimming the floor. Kagami is tugging him until his back is flushed against his chest, head resting on his shoulder.

You feel like home, he thinks. My home.

It's stupidly romantic, a clichéd travesty and he won't trade it for anything. It's almost like before, like summer, where everything had been pure and uncomplicated.

It's different now. But it can still be good.

Kagami is humming near soundlessly, and he can't recognize what it is, but the series of vibrations that pool through his back is nice. He stops when the countdown begins from downstairs, cheering that escalates if muted by the distance. "Three... two..." He whispers the seconds into his ear as they tick, the ghost of his breath on his neck.

"One," Kagami says, and they look on as sparks go off in the sky, look at each other.

Kuroko kisses him, shivering.

* * *

By the time the night is over and the guests have left for them to wrap up, Kagami is more than a little drunk. He's plastered, enough that he can't talk without mumbling, can't walk in a straight line.

Eventually they have to return downstairs to mingle and they do, after some more minutes in solitude. It's sometime around two in the morning that Kuroko notes Kagami has had a drink in his hand the entire time, hasn't ever been seen separated from one.

Kagami catches him looking once and keeps at it, shooting back the rest of his glass. Kuroko pretends not to notice, after.

But it's difficult not to notice when he's the one heaving Kagami upstairs and he's had a few drinks himself. He helps the other to their bedroom, mindful of his weight, takes his clothes off when Kagami keeps fumbling. He helps him change and get on the bed before turning his back to Kagami and undressing himself, slipping on a clean shirt and pajama pants.

There's a shaky huff behind him that he realizes is supposed to be laughter. Kagami is pissed drunk so Kuroko doesn't read too much into it, just climbs into bed after him. Even then, there's still space between them. He closes his eyes for a few, tries to forget that. Tries to forget the purple welts under his belt.

Kagami is silent next to him, there but not there. Then he thinks he's probably fallen asleep.

"I don't know what you're thinking anymore," he says, suddenly. Kuroko aches when his voice catches despite how dazed he is. He shudders at the confession, thinking Kagami would never want to know his thoughts.

"I used to." Kagami gives a sad little chuckle, like he had been proud of it. "I used to know."

The words are circular, hazy with more than alcohol. By then Kuroko is convinced he had been talking to himself and sighs, frowning.

"I don't anymore," Kagami says, and goes quiet. Kuroko listens to him breathe, watches the rise and fall of his chest even out.

He doesn't sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Azusa has a pattern, Kuroko has come to figure out. He calls him more often after losses than wins, when he's in a fouler mood. They play the Jets and they lose and Azusa texts him not ten minutes after the game ends. Losing has never sit well with anyone, more so when it's a hard game that goes well into overtime and he's ashamed when he lets himself in the man's office.

He's furious as he sits there at his desk, the pen is clenched so tight in his hand Kuroko is surprised it doesn't snap in two. His tie is already gone and the cool and collected image of the president is just that, an image. It's something Kuroko has slowly learned over time.

Azusa stands, locks his door and unbuckles his belt. He gracelessly bends Kuroko over his desk since he knows he's not going to do it himself, because getting into position is the same as participating, but it's a rough trade. He's shoving two fingers inside of him, he doesn't use nearly enough lube for the task. Kuroko clamps down on his jaw and tries to breathe through it like it's an overstretched tendon, respond to it the way he would an injury even if his body protests at the intrusion.

He can't help gasping when Azusa pushes all the way in. The man drinks in the noise, it isn't one of assent, it's one of pain and Kuroko knows he is smart enough to tell the two apart, and cruel enough to prefer one over the other.

He's gotten good at removing himself from the situation. Before he thinks about how scared he is then how angry and repulsed, how frustrated. He keeps thinking about the desk, that the body above him may as well be the ceiling caving in on him, the tightness of his pants when they're brought to his knees, when he puts them on again.

He wants to fucking disappear. Now he just does. He had been wrong before and it would be worse. He doesn't think about anything in the room, doesn't think about anything outside of it. He doesn't stay present. It's far from ideal but at least his mind stops screaming at him. It's bliss in comparison.

It still hurts, but he doesn't cry anymore. He doesn't feel it as much. He stops being terrified. His vision blurs with tears sometimes, but they don't fall.

It's like a cord has been severed and he's cut from his strings, floating. His fears ebb away with it.

Azusa bites into his shoulder and he doesn't feel it.

* * *

He doesn't think about it the next day. He files the encounter to the back of his memory with prejudice. He has only come out of the showers in his underwear after practice, a towel draped over him as he walks to his cabinet. He doesn't take it off even when he's dry, not until he's wearing his jeans. He aims to put on a shirt as quickly as he can, because he knows the mark is visible. Eiji notices before he can, whistling.

"Shit," he says. They're locker neighbors and Eiji does a double take, shaking his head and chuckling. "Looks like you had fun last night."

Normally love bites are nothing to be self-conscious about. But this one hadn't been given to him by the one person who's meant to. Eiji had spoken in polite volume, mumbled really, but everything echoes in the damn room. The sentence carries through and Kuroko sees Kagami staring at them from his peripheral. He feels small all of the sudden, his heart lodged in his throat going thud, thud, thud and he's having trouble breathing.

There are mirrors in some of the walls, and they give away everything. The bite looks raw in his reflection, the skin dark like the color of a fresh bruise, broken like a lot of teeth had gone into it.

There's the sound of fabric ripping and he realizes he's accidentally torn the neck of his shirt. He immediately trades it for another one he's kept in store, hastily puts it on and chucks the offending object into the back of his things.

The room is unbearably still and no one is saying anything. Their teammates had known about Kagami and him, known that they're an item from the very beginning. From that first arrival, they've taken it in good humor, egged them on for it like they always do. They've been helpful.

But no one is laughing this time and Kagami is quiet.

He steals a glance around the corner and gets a glimpse of Nobu gripping onto a sports bottle, hard enough to squeeze out its contents.

He brings up a palm to conceal the mark, keeps it there until he's slipped on his high-tops. He doesn't bother lacing them properly, just picks up his keys and goes.

He keeps it together somehow and drives. Drives uphill and doesn't realize where he ends up until he does. It's alarmingly easy to break into Teikou, wander its vacant halls. There isn't anyone there, not at this hour in the weekend. The place is about as deserted as a demolition site.

He picks the lock of the fire exits, climbs onto the rooftop. The skies are scorched red, blackened blue painted in streaks of angry flames. The tendrils point to a chain of white beacons that blink in the early night, evening stars.

He takes a deep breath and screams at the top of his lungs.

* * *

When he gets home Kagami is already there, sitting hunched over in the patio. He's nursing a tall glass of beer, but it's mostly full, having lost all its froth like he had waited with it. He doesn't look like he's had any, pale and stony as if he's taken a sip and is nauseated by the prospect of drinking.

Kuroko almost wishes he hadn't been sober so they can postpone this. Kagami doesn't react when he spots him approaching the deck. Kuroko doesn't say anything, just stands there with his keys in his fist.

He hasn't thought of what they have as fragile, not since they're seventeen and tenuously exploring the possibility of what they can be. They'd been so young when they had first started. They haven't even had this life yet.

One of them has to speak and he doesn't want it to be him. Finally Kagami asks, "Is there somebody else?"

Out of all the questions Kagami can ask, this has to be the worst because it's the closest thing to the truth. For one moment he's ready to deny the claim, it's absurd, tell him a very firm no. Reassure him.

I didn't, he wants to say. I didn't betray you.

And realizes he had. Azusa isn't someone else the way Kagami is, never that, but he is someone. He'd chipped parts of him only Kagami is meant to have. It's only fair he has to make this choice. It's a clean break as any. No one goes back from this.

Kagami's voice had trembled asking, and Kuroko knows he's dying to hear the answer. He's begging for it with his eyes.

He doesn't have a shred of doubt that Kagami will believe him no matter what he says.

I love you, he swallows.

"Yes," he says. There's a pull on his stomach and he feels sick, but he tastes the lie again in his mouth and he doesn't feel too much like vomiting. It's easier this time to say, "I'm sorry."

His face crumbles. Kuroko will always remember that expression, the light draining from his features.

Kagami turns away, buries his head into his hands. He's crying. It's silent, Kuroko realizes when his shoulders shake and he stifles a sob. It's painful and he'd take yelling any day. Kuroko has only seen him cry three times, twice because of basketball and once when his dad had relieved him of the fear he wouldn't be his son, playfully cuffed him upside for being stupid enough to assume.

Kagami is crying now.

He wants to reach out, and knows he shouldn't. He shifts then stays as he is. "Kagami–"

"Don't," Kagami says, wetly. "Please, just..."

He wants to tell him it's going to be okay, comfort him the way Kagami always does for him. But it won't be okay. Not after this. Besides he's forfeited the right to that a few minutes ago. No, he'd lost it the first time he had knelt for Azusa.

"What do you need me to do?" He asks the only thing he can.

"Just go." Kagami wipes at his eyes, sucks in a breath like he's trying to control himself. "Go for a couple hours, okay?"

* * *

He stops at the gas station because he runs out after the first hour. Then he drives to a random parking lot, parks there until he's told not to. He drives and stops at another store, parks again. He does it over and over until the clock says it's safe to return, around three hours, closer to four. Until his mind is numb from repetition and he can no longer think. Not about Kagami or Azusa or the fucking hickey that's led him there.

He goes back. Kagami is waiting on the living room couch, duffel bag already packed next to his foot. He's cooled off enough to do that, pack. It's not surprising, but the thought of him leaving still sends him into a spiral, is a knife plunge into a pit.

"I'm gonna stay at Nobu's for a couple of days," Kagami says, standing and he sounds a lot more like his usual self.

It won't be just a couple of days, he knows. It'll be much longer. He'll move, he'll do that because there isn't a point in staying in a house with someone you don't love. It's what makes sense.

He doesn't know how he's going to cope being alone in this massive place, it's always been too big for him, and it'll feel even bigger without Kagami. He's always filled the spaces that Kuroko forgets they exist anymore.

"No," he says, then remembers himself. "I mean– Why don't you stay and I'll go?"

Kagami scoffs. He isn't used to having his scorn directed at him and knows he'll have to be. "It's your house."

No, it isn't. Kuroko had told the agent they want a sprawling deck and multiple balconies, a bedroom facing the sea so the breeze would flood in, a state of the art kitchen with six burners. He doesn't care about those things but those are the things he knows would create a home Kagami loves.

He nods anyway. "Okay."

Kagami hoists his bag, grabs his set of keys. He removes the one for the front door, places it down on the front counter. Everything feels more final when he does that. There's the clink of metal on marble, and he lets go, makes for the end of the foyer.

"Kagami," he starts, and doesn't finish.

He stops, waits for a few seconds and continues when Kuroko says nothing else. He has one foot outside the door when Kuroko speaks, abruptly if only to say, "I'm sorry."

Kagami stiffens, the breath rolling carefully through his whole back. "Don't make me say something I'll regret, Kuroko."

That silences him better than most as far as last words go.

Kagami leaves.

* * *

The bed feels large enough to swallow him that night. He vacates the bedroom after an hour, decides he'll never sleep there again. Not alone.

He lies down on the couch, wraps himself in blankets. It's not warm enough and his stomach keeps churning. He can't sleep. His fingers start to scratch at the itch on his shoulder and he's not being gentle, he's vicious, his nails digging into skin until he can feel the wetness between them. The metallic scent of blood calms him, strangely.

* * *

It's hell, having to see Kagami every day on the court and avoid him. Having to sit not two feet away from him on the bench and not being able to talk to him. It's hell when Kagami won't look at him, worse when he does since he doesn't look at him with anger, just disappointment.

It is hell until it isn't. He doesn't have to worry anymore about how late he'll be coming home when Azusa's done blackmailing him, or how to hide it, or if he goes on a bender first. His pulse doesn't speed up every time he thinks of stepping into the porch because there's no one there anymore. He stops worrying over getting hard or not getting hard and he stops thinking of sex like it means anything at all to him. He stops worrying where before he had been too busy trying not to pant like a whore.

Living alone is hard, but it's manageable and he's guilty that it is. He observes Kagami from afar when he can't help it, sees how he's just carrying through the day sometimes, heavy on his feet when he isn't playing. He isn't sleeping well either, he looks wan and bleary, faint circles under his eyes. He's responsible for it, for all of it.

After Kagami leaves, he stops fighting Azusa. Maybe that isn't right because it isn't like he had fought before, not really, but there's always some objection, weak as they are. He goes into the man's office when he's called, doesn't look at him and lets him do what he wants. He's always quiet, that isn't going to change. Azusa doesn't bring up Kagami as often because he doesn't make a fuss, doesn't ask why.

Kuroko is certain he knows. Azusa seems to always know everything that happens in their gated community and the status of his relationship isn't an exception. He doesn't comment on it, doesn't rub it in and he's thankful even for that small consideration.

The guilt eats him later, has him clawing at his shoulder.

* * *

The thing is Kagami is only human. There is no question what he's done, still doing, is awful and to do it to someone you love makes it twice as bad. If anything he should have predicted it.

He knows all this and he's still startled when Kagami singles him out against the bathroom wall of the bar they've been celebrating in for the last few hours. It's a local haunt, a popular one among athletes. Kuroko hadn't wanted to attend, mixers aren't mandatory, but it's a road win and those are hard enough this time of the year. He can value the team's attempts at including him.

He had meant to wash up after a few drinks. He's just drying his hands with a couple of paper towels and without noticing Kagami is already there behind him when he turns around, and he's wedged between him and the sink wall. He's standing extremely close, close enough for Kuroko to smell the alcohol in his breath. He's probably had a few fireballs, his pupils are dilated the way they are when he's intoxicated.

Kuroko meets his eyes despite not wanting to. He just wants to get out, really. But he's trapped in a corner and evading isn't currently part of the option.

Kagami doesn't say anything, he just looks at him. It quickly makes him uncomfortable. Then he lifts his hand and for one horrible second he thinks Kagami might strike him, but then his knuckles only graze his cheekbone. The man parts his lips and leans over, and Kuroko thinks it's likelier he'll kiss him than punch him, and feels so, so stupid. "Who is it?" Kagami slurs, and Kuroko comes to the conclusion he's underestimated how drunk he is.

A stone drops in his stomach, his palms sweating as he curls them under him. He can't push Kagami off, not like this. "It isn't..." He doesn't even know what he's saying, and that's suspiciously similar to a denial that he has to save it, follow through with something coherent. "It isn't someone you know."

He's so full of shit.

"Is it Daiki?" The accusation isn't uncalled for. It had been true, once. A long time ago.

He's loved two people like that in his lifetime. One of them in front of him. "No," he forces himself to say.

Kagami laughs, bitter and callous, and it hurts. "I just... I just don't get it."

Kuroko realizes it's a prelude to something ugly and he wants to get away, but he can't. Kagami is pressing into him, and they're touching when they haven't been in the same room in weeks. "Does... Does he put up with you when you can't get it up?"

The words cut and he needs to close his eyes for a second. They hurt more coming from Kagami because he knows they're true, knows they're deserved. Vengeful but fair.

"Kagami," he says, hoarse. He doesn't want to do this. He wants to go. The bass music adds to the problem, making him claustrophobic. He wonders if anyone's looking for them, wishes they are.

"Does he cook for you?" Kagami continues, coldly. His hands are tight on his hip, on his wrist, and Kuroko wants them off. "Does he watch you play?"

He starts to squirm but the other has him pinned, mouths at his ear. "Does he tell you how fucking good you are?"

"Kagami, please." He can't listen to any more of this. He tries to push him off but he hardly puts any real effort into it. He can't because it's him.

From deep in his throat Kagami growls, "Does he love you?"

"Please," he says, edging back into the mirror. "Please. Let me go."

He doesn't even fight it at this point, doesn't fight off Kagami. But he says the words and they ring to him, to Kagami and he lets go, breathing heavily as he steps back. He stares at his hands like what he's doing had finally hit him. He's horrified, that much is clear even in the poor lighting.

Kagami gasps, "Kuroko–"

He breaks for the door.

* * *

He doesn't stop running until he's safely locked in his car. He drives then he has to pull over because he feels sick. The moment he halts into a stop he just opens the door and throws up. He somehow manages not to get any vomit inside of his car.

He can hear everything Kagami had left unsaid on his way back to the hotel.

Because he does all those things and more for him. Because he accepts every conceivable flaw he has. Because he tells him how fucking good he is.

Because Kagami had loved him.


	7. Chapter 7

Given how much had happened yesterday, Kuroko doesn't realize his phone is missing until the next morning. It had been late when he had returned and he'd been out of it that it hadn't registered as a priority. He'd forgotten about it, slept through his alarm. It's nearing afternoon when he wakes to the knocking on his door, drags himself to answer groggily, not even checking whoever it is behind it.

Which isn't the brightest idea since Kagami is the one standing there, already dolled up in a pristine white shirt and his game day suit, perfectly pressed and smelling faintly of cologne. He might as well be naked in his wrinkled tee and boxers.

"You left your phone at the bar," the ace mumbles, holding up the device between them to prove his point.

The gesture seems like one of innocence but Kuroko doesn't think he has any reason to be guilty. He's still getting his brain to function so he blinks a couple of times and says, "Uh... Thanks." And takes the phone from him.

Kagami shifts on his feet, it's unfamiliar to see him this way, scratching the back of his neck, restless and uncertain. There's something at the tip of his tongue, something he wants to say but holds back. His gaze snaps up as his mouth moves a little before his eyebrows pull together at the sight of his shoulder. Concern makes him speak up. "Is that–" He asks, "Is that blood?"

Covering his shoulder is a knee-jerk reaction. He shrugs, hoping it comes off as natural, drawing back slightly. "It's just a stain. Cranberry juice," he says.

The bite is far from healed, in fact it's become a wound from how his hand can't seem to keep off of it, tearing until it stings and fabric clings to it. He hasn't been able to stop since the night Kagami had left, a well fostered habit by now.

Kagami isn't fooled. "Are you–"

"I have to go," he cuts off, instinctively shuts the door, unthinking of how Kagami is still there. His back hits the wood closed. He peels off his shirt and sure enough he'll need bleach to remove the smudge. His shoulder bleeds again when hot water runs through it as he showers, oozing thickly. He staunches the flow with a towel before he redresses. He doesn't want it to soak through his clothes.

* * *

Most of Kagami's belongings are still in the house. He prefers to think of the house as just a house, because it is now neither theirs nor his. His jackets are hanging on the rack, his clothes folded on the shelves of the master bedroom's closet. They're there even when Kagami had gone weeks ago.

Sometimes Kuroko looks at them, transfixed. He catches himself doing that, and he zeroes in on the gaps that are infinitesimally larger because Kagami had taken some of them else he would have nothing to wear. The space bares more than just the wardrobe.

He's being silly. It's still over half full, but the impending permanence of that emptiness has him stuck like a windup toy. Kagami is going to do that soon, move everything out until there isn't a single trace of him. He plans to ignore that eventuality until he has no choice but to endure it. Maybe he should set a date for it, so he can mentally prepare. But even the best laid plans won't suffice when he doesn't want Kagami to pack up completely, doesn't want him to leave at all.

* * *

In reality it doesn't take long for that day to arrive.

Kagami has been switching between two suits for nearly a month. It's funny that he knows this for a fact, that he can recognize the difference in the seams when all of them are the same shade of midnight blue.

They bump into each other on their way into the stadium early one morning. It still appears more like dawn. Clouds hang in the air, not heavy enough to spill a fresh storm, yet oppressive enough to cast a still grey through the skies, the color of polluted rivers.

"Hey," he says, keeping his voice down as other people pass by the entry area. A sideways glance and Kuroko can tell Chiyo is glaring in their direction. At him particularly, not Kagami. "Will you be home later today?"

Yesterday's rain had muddied the grass, but he also had drank enough last night to not mind the soil scuffing his shoes. It still isn't nearly enough for him to be okay with parting with more of Kagami's things. He's slow to look up, even slower to respond. It isn't like they have a game tonight so he doesn't have anywhere to be. "Mhmm."

Kagami asks, "Seven alright?"

Seven isn't alright. Nothing's alright. But he can't make this more of a spectacle than it already is.

"Sure," he says. "Are you going to need boxes or anything?"

Kagami pauses in his tracks, just shy of one feet from the gym like the question paralyzes him. He composes himself in time to open the swing door for them as the sound of rubber footfalls greet their ears. "Nobu will probably have some. If not I'm sure I can get a few."

"Okay." He gathers himself, nodding.

Kagami smiles a bit stiffly, heads for the benches at the reply. Chiyo is still glaring at him when he joins the warm-up line and Kuroko looks away with practice. It's been three weeks since he's done it because his teammates frequently side eye him whenever Kagami deigns to interact with him.

Regardless who's at fault Kuroko knows the other man won't air their dirty laundry in front of everyone. He won't even have told their captain if he hadn't been staying with him. And while his teammates may be jocks they aren't stupid enough to forego the obvious painting him and Kagami make. The scene in the locker room with Eiji had been fairly public and the two of them are no longer talking in the aftermath. They aren't even looking at each other for the most part.

Kagami is getting his things tonight, is an echo that trails after him as he sprints through the drills. Sweat runs through his jaw, damps his shirt.

Seven is too soon. But time stops for no one.

* * *

The bell rings not five minutes after the agreed hour and Kuroko answers it, letting Kagami in. There isn't anything more awkward than their little procession at the vestibule as they make their way through the narrow hall for the lounge.

Not for the first time Kuroko wishes Nigou were still alive, because that dog had been the greatest ice breaker in existence, but Kuroko hadn’t wanted the malamute husky to suffer any longer than he had when the cancerous growth had spread over his leg.

They shuffle wordlessly into the living room and Kagami's eyes are heavy as they scan the frames on the mantelpiece. It feels too private and Kuroko silently leaves for the kitchen for some tea, giving him time.

When he returns Kagami still hasn't moved an inch, he's got his hand on a picture and he's looking at it like it'll shatter any moment. Kuroko enters, reaches close enough to identify which one. It's junior year, from high school. They're lying out in the courtyard after exams and he's mid speech, saying some inane thing while Kagami is smiling widely next to him, squinting a bit from the sun. Ishida from photography had taken that, snapped it without thinking while making rounds for the yearbook. Had given it to Kuroko in private a few days later, sheepish for what he had caught on camera without them knowing, for spying, promising to delete it after surrendering the copy.

"I just think you should have it," he had said before scampering out of sight. Kuroko is left dumbstruck at his departure. He'd inspected the image and breathed out a sigh, awed, asked for Ishida's number later from a classmate. Thanked him.

Kagami is still staring at the photograph when he confesses, "I can't remember who took it."

He sounds like he's in pain.

Kuroko doesn't grimace but it's a close thing. He's just glad the other has his back turned. "Ishida. From the yearbook club," he says. "He gave it to me before he ran for his life. You had a test that day. Pre-calc I think."

Kagami's eyes are on him this time, the emotion in them unreadable. He sets the frame down.

Kuroko thinks about the pictures in the bedroom. He hadn't put them away, had barely touched them. He can't bring himself to. Though he doesn't walk into that room often because even he isn't that much of a masochist. Then he remembers Kagami is going to have to, that they'll probably cause him discomfort and wishes he had. It's too late now in any case so he'll just have to deal with it.

The air is growing thick between them that Kagami draws away from him, clears his throat. He makes a vague motion for the staircase. "I'm gonna..."

"Yeah." He's not going to make this any harder by having Kagami spell it out, just steps aside so he won't get in the way. "Call if you need help."

Kagami vanishes up the stairs. He wonders if he should have tidied more, regrets not having done it. All of Kagami's products are still in the bath, even his almost finished bottle of shampoo.

The only thing Kuroko had thrown away had been his razor, and that's only because he'd gotten plastered one night and found himself staring at the glint of metal from the mirror. Found himself thinking if he had brought it to his arm maybe the ache would spill out of him in rivers like veins.

He'd flushed it down the toilet along with his sick some fifteen minutes later.

Kagami comes back into the living room, armed with a load. It isn't much if Kuroko is being honest, just a handful of gear in a box and a bag of clothing. It doesn't fail to remind him how different this is, that it isn't like their regular fights where one of them would wind up bunking with a teammate to simmer down.

There is nothing temporary about this.

Kagami says, "I'm good for now."

Kuroko nods. "Okay."

He continues to stand there where Kuroko would have thought he would be going. He's itching to say something, seemingly debating on it hard enough to inhale sharper. "Look, I can't get it out of my head." He dumps his bag on the carpet and paces, inevitably crossing more space than he means to, which leaves him unusually close. "And Nobu said it's stupid and wrong, that I shouldn't have done it and he's absolutely right. But I–" It's an outburst once he starts speaking and Kuroko thinks he hasn't heard him say this much since they had broken things off. "I looked through your phone the other night."

It explains why he looks ashamed for a while there.

"Okay," he says again. There are worse things to forgive. Like what he did for instance.

"There's just... There's nothing there. And I can't figure it out." Kagami's all worked up like the thought has long bothered him. "When you see another person, you talk to them. That's how it works. But there aren't any messages, there aren't any calls. I looked through your phone and I can't fucking find anything. Why is there nothing?"

Because the absence of proof is what troubles him most, Kuroko scoffs. He's angrier than he expects and he tries to reason internally that it doesn't make sense to get angry at Kagami who's looking at him like the day Kuroko had told him he cheated on him with someone else. It's the only thought that reins him in from doing anything bad, like laugh at him.

He's certainly tempted to. 

He'd done everything in his power to fight for them. He'd given everything to be good, to stay with Kagami, and they still fell apart.

"Just–" He's so angry he can barely breathe. "Just let it go."

"Kuroko," Kagami says, frowning like he can't understand, can't accept it. "I don't get it."

"There's nothing to get!" He snaps.

The exclamation surprises Kagami, has him stepping back.

And once he does it's the one thing Kuroko wants him to do. "Go. Just go."

Kagami goes after a few seconds.

As soon as he leaves, Kuroko slams his arm through the length of the mantel, sends everything on the shelf smashing on the floor. It isn't enough. He tears through the kitchen next, destroys half of what's in the cupboards before he finally cuts himself on some glass. He stops, sinks down the wall on his knees.

He cries.


	8. Chapter 8

They lose three games in the beginning of February and they're out of the playoffs. It's rare for them to be kicked off this early and Azusa takes it about as well as he predicts, which is to say not at all. But Kuroko can hardly blame him since he dislikes it as much as he does.

He knows how it's going to pan out, Azusa will be rough, will enjoy humiliating him. He'll dish out a volley of insults, swear a blue streak.

Azusa doesn't humiliate him. What he lacks in humiliation, he makes up for in anger.

He is so angry in fact Kuroko doesn't even think he notices he is. He keeps quiet, it isn't hard with how disembodied he's become. Azusa hadn't been rough, he had been violent. His head is swimming from where he'd hit it on the bookcase. He'd backhanded him when he hadn't got up fast enough from kneeling. Kuroko isn't all there until over halfway when Azusa is already in him, fucking him into the desk. He should be glad, probably.

But he feels like he's going to throw up and the man will get angrier if possible. Kuroko doesn't want to be hit again.

"You screwed up," Azusa snarls, thrusting hard. "You screwed up on purpose, didn't you?"

"No," he sputters, then bites down on his lip before he can say something stupid. Like ask him to stop. He doesn't have a way of defusing the raging fit Azusa seems to have slipped into, but he can wait it out. That's how he usually lasts anyway.

It takes an awful long for Azusa to finish inside him, but at least when he does the man doesn't want him to hang around, dismissing him from his sight immediately. He's more than willing to oblige, staggers for the bathroom. He barely makes it to the toilet bowl, retching. He convulses with each heave. Some of the vomit splatter on the seat. He inches away before he face plants onto it, leans his cheek against the cool tiles of the wall instead.

There's three knocks on the stall, tentative and someone says, "You okay in there?"

His eyes automatically water at the voice. He tries to remain still, keeps silent and prays he won't throw up again.

"Hey, you okay?"

He doesn't reply. There isn't supposed to be anyone. The game is long over and all the equipment's been cleared, everyone including the staff has left, the hallways virtually unoccupied when he'd scurried through them.

What had Kagami been doing, staying around this late?

He can see the other's shoes below the door from where he's slumped on the ground. He waits. It takes a few minutes before Kagami sighs like he's given up and leaves.

The sound of footsteps become distant until they're no more. When he is convinced Kagami's no longer there, and it takes quite a bit before he is, he unlocks the cubicle and hurries for the lockers. He just needs to get his things and get out.

He freezes as soon as he enters that side of the room because Kagami hasn't left, he's sitting there on one of the benches, hands wrapped together, tapping his thumbs. He'd taken off his suit jacket, now resting on his lap, the sleeves of his button down rolled up to his elbows.

While Kuroko had been waiting for him to go, Kagami had been waiting for him to come out. Because that's the kind of person he is. He won't leave knowing a teammate had been holed up sick in the bathroom without making sure they were fine.

He startles. It's clear he isn't expecting Kuroko when he looks up at him.

It's the worst time to remember his shirt isn't tucked in properly, his belt missing a loop. Kagami doesn't have to look that far though. There's the cut on his mouth and that his face is blotchy with tears. He knows what he looks like, dishevelled and raw. He looks utterly ruined.

Kagami doesn't stop staring, his gaze hasn't faltered one bit, piercing in assessment.

Kuroko is keenly aware of the shame in his expression. It sheds him better than being stripped naked.

The moment comes. Understanding rushes through Kagami, his eyes blown wide as he stammers mutely.

Kagami finally understands he gets to be there solely on the merit of fucking their boss. It's not an easy knowledge to swallow and the sheer shock of it renders him speechless. When his voice starts working again, it wavers. "Kuroko," is all he says.

He knows, he knows and Kuroko's eyes blur with tears. At least now he doesn't have to see Kagami's pity.

They stay in that standstill for a minute that might as well be an eternity.

Then Kagami gets up, closes the gap between them in one stride and his arms are around him. They tighten when Kuroko lets his head fall limply into his shoulder. He hasn't even reached out to cling back, but Kagami is hugging him hard enough for the two of them.

He feels safe there in a way he hasn't been and thinks he would have stayed forever if not for the stickiness congealing between his trousers. He wrenches away and Kagami instantly releases him. "Let me drive you back," he says, the words seem to scratch at his throat. Then he adds, "Please." 

"Yeah." Kuroko would have said yes regardless. He gestures in the direction of the showers. "Just let me..."

"Of course." Kagami says, "I'll be here."

* * *

They ride back in the quiet and while it wouldn't normally faze Kagami, it as good as chokes him then, the air stagnant with guilt, frankly permeated with it. Kuroko would have picked up on it too if he hadn't felt so terrible. Kagami sees him wincing periodically and eases his grip on the steering wheel, asking, "You alright?"

They pull into an intersection where traffic is only a bit busier but the glare of the lights has him turning away. Any initial intent of assuring Kagami that he is disintegrates when he attempts to open his eyes only to be blinded. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he slurs, shaking. He doesn't want to make a mess on the dashboard.

Kagami wastes no time to stop at the first sign of an empty road. It's a good thing he does because Kuroko unfastens his seatbelt, tips over the side of the car and vomits. He hopes he doesn't get any on the door.

When he looks up Kagami is cupping his face in his palms and he distinctly gathers that he has to be stepping on puke to be there.

He can't stop shaking even with Kagami holding him.

"Kuroko," he says, tilting his head. Kagami is trying to get him focused enough to reply, but he only stumbles into a series of garbled sounds, none of them words. His hand cards into his hair, into his scalp. It comes away bloody. He suddenly pales, ashen. "Oh, god."

Then he moves on autopilot. He belts Kuroko back inside the car, props his legs in, bangs the door shut and jumps into the driver's seat. The engine roars to life and his eyes are blurring again. Whether it's from how fast they're speeding or his vision going black he isn't sure.

"Kuroko," Kagami calls, frantic. "Hey, hey. You have to keep your eyes open for me. You have to keep your eyes open."

He loves this man, he thinks. 

"Kuroko–"

It's dark after that.

* * *

Later, Kagami would suppose there are stranger sights to behold at an emergency ward than a full grown man carrying another full grown man while shouting in outrage.

He's sure he'll have more than a few speeding tickets by the end of their trip to the hospital, with the angry honking that follows every turn. He isn't proud, but it's the least of his worries. Kuroko isn't responding once his eyes flutter closed. If Kagami had looked hard enough his frame is twitching slightly like he's having a seizure. It goes on for a bit before he falls horribly still and Kagami would rather take the erratic movement instead of nothing.

"Calm down," a familiar voice says. The instruction somehow registers to him in his panic. Kagami comes face to face with Midorima. He forgets the man works here. "Kagami, are you injured?"

"No," he says immediately. "It's not a car accident."

"That's good." Midorima discards the neck brace offered by an assisting nurse, pulls the gurney she'd been moving with her other arm. "Lay him down."

When Kagami does so the head lolling against his shoulder smears red over the leather surface. It had done the same to his shirt at the movement, leaving behind a wine stained trail.

"Concussion. Grade three. Possible bleeding." Midorima switches off the light pen he had used to inspect Kuroko's pupils. They aren't tracking well. "Nao, please arrange a CT and make sure Yuta gets to theatre B12 in ten." The nurse nods, rings the doctor's line while several attendees roll the gurney across the hall.

Kagami asks, "Aren't you going to be the one helping him?"

The surgeon assures, "Yuta's one of the best in neurosurgery. He can handle it." When the answer does not one bit ease the lines off of the other man's face, he sighs. His bedside manners may be poor but it doesn't take much to see that Kagami cares little for him vouching for the other doctor when he's a stranger. It isn't about competence, it's about trust. "Would it make you feel better if it was me?"

"Please."

Kagami's uncanny desperation has Midorima clearing his throat. "Nao."

"Yes, Midorima-san?" The nurse swivels from her phone call.

"Get the CT but cancel Yuta." She marks down his instructions. "Move down my appointments by an hour. And postpone Jun's consultation until Monday. Tell her she's off billing this month. Let Uehara from 3B assist."

Nao asks, "Will that be all?"

"Yes," Midorima says. "Thank you, Nao."

"Of course, sir." She makes herself scarce.

Kagami says, "Midorima, I–"

"I'll take care of him," the other man tells him, handing him a key card. "Either drive home then come back, or use the showers here. My locker. You and I are roughly the same size."

Kagami takes the key, eliciting a disapproving hum from Midorima. "Thank you."

The doctor reminds, "One more thing, Kagami."

"Yeah?" Kagami may have looked pitiful in his blood-stained shirt, but Midorima knows where his priorities lie.

"Call Akashi." He says, "Before I call him for you."

Kagami nods.


End file.
